


Only When My Wayward Sons Come Home

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Samulet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-12
Updated: 2011-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 08:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there is anyone who knew where God is always at, it is one being and one being in particular: Lucifer. The Devil always knows where his Father walks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only When My Wayward Sons Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

If there is anyone who knew where God is always at, it is one being and one being in particular: Lucifer. The Devil always knows where his Father walks.

Call it a blessing and a curse, but it is something he simply knew. Whenever he was close to his father his essence burned hot, that consistent cold temperature suddenly dissipating. It was almost like having your Grace shoved back into you, that burning ball of unhealthy heat pin balling inside of you.

So when he heard whispers of Castiel proclaiming to be God, he knew he had to break out of the Cage. He cut deals with the makers of his Cage, with ancient beings thought put to rest, with Death and even with himself. It was a brutal process but in the end he found himself at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, sitting on a lawn chair situated by the shore. Judging from the way the sun peeked over the hills in its blood-red glory, it was morning, the glimpses of sunlight making the water on the lake churn a multitude of different shades of blue. It was a whirlpool of soft slivers of cobalt blue mixing with the deep regality of royal blue. But Lucifer wasn’t here to admire the surroundings, instead his eyes were fixated on the smiling and wrinkled figure in his seat. A hand moved to pat the armrest of the empty lawn chair beside him. Working his jaw, Lucifer gingerly accepted it, feeling the hard wood against his back. “I’m proud of you son for what you are doing,” he could feel his Father smile without even needing to look at it, and the tall blonde could only shake his head in mild disbelief.

“Proud?” his words were hoarse, as if he never spoken his entire life, but he knew the real reason was the simple fact he never uttered one word to his Father in over two millennia. Multitudes of lifetimes in silence and unsolved problems. Lucifer cleared his throat immediately, glaring darkly at something near his foot. He could feel him looking at him, and he shuddered under that stare, could feel that untainted love, and he wanted it so badly. To grab it, to once again claim it as his own, but he held his ground. He wouldn’t break. Wouldn’t break for a Father who puts ants before sons.

“For risking yourself coming out here to see me...to help your father. That’s selflessness.”

“I was selfless before...” he quietly defended, trying to regain composure as he could feel that untainted love touch against his hollow insides that contained nothing. Once upon a time a Grace so brilliant lived, but now there was simply...the whispers of a ghost of a past self.

God sighed, the water suddenly moving as if moved by his very breath, eyes of molten suns and stars staring curiously at his son. Such a stubborn son of his, but one that still held the strings of his heart and forever will. While he may boast to be the most selfish, the most cruel, it was him alone that was intertwined with him despite the distance. Even when he gave Sam Winchester, Lucifer’s vessel, his son’s contained Grace in the form of that little amulet...that vessel gave it away to his older brother. It was sign enough that his darling son was growing and doing well. He could only feel his smile grow, unable to contain just the pleasure it was to see his beautiful child. A beautiful success.

“No. You were forced and pressured to love me because I am your father and your God. Now you got a taste of the entire world. You have seen its good, its bad and its ugly... You made your choices, plotted your actions and built your own personality. You rebuilt yourself to your own image, and you chose after seeing it all...to come to me. Not once has the idea of overthrowing Castiel and becoming the new “God” has crossed your mind,” God happily responded, folding the hands of his own vessel on his lap, staring fondly at his son.

“Well it has now,” he bitterly barked out in laughter, turning to throw his father a mocking look, but it seemed to fall when he saw eyes of liquid gold regard him gently. It was a look that told him that there was no point trying to act tough or to fool him...he couldn’t hide anything from his Father, and that thought made him bite his tongue in frustration and fear. He was vulnerable. Exposed. Opened and raw.

“No...not even now. I’ve finally taught you all that I have needed to teach you.”

“I...I don’t understand.”

“When you become a father and bear children that you love wholeheartedly, you will understand. Sometimes you need to step back, and not determine the lives of others. While I may claim to know all, that doesn’t mean I have chosen for you. Even than...sometimes I am wrong, and I am not afraid to admit it. I thought you would be the first son to understand, but it was Gabriel. He understood the gift I was giving to you all...”

“By leaving?” he replied incredulously, almost feeling himself rise from his seat in growing frustration. There was no honor in leaving your children. Nothing fatherly about it!

God shook his head, chuckling gently as he turned that warm gaze onto the water, lips forever in a smile. “By giving you the chance to breathe without feeling forced to do what I think is right. I gave you the chance to do what you thought was right. I realized that all of your actions differ so greatly when I am around you in comparison to when I’m not.”

Lucifer understood what was being played here and he sank further into his seat, turning his own gaze onto the water, crossing his arms across his chest as a perfected frown danced on his face, “I hope you aren’t assuming I’m going to suddenly change my ways...”

“No, no... Not at all. You have done such a good job, Lucifer. You made yourself such a structured home of your own, and you carry on your job with the testing of human virtue very well. You are a very ambitious son, and I am pleased to see you grow. While I may not approve of your methods and wish you would spend your energies elsewhere, you are my son. Nothing you can do can make me stop loving you.”

Those weren’t the words he wished to hear. He wanted to hear distinct disapproval. A growing frown. A reprimanding statement that would shove him into a fit of anger. Yet Lucifer could only feel his ribcage shake as he felt himself lack words to reply. Deep down...he always knew, that he was forgiven, but he didn’t want to accept it. Too stubborn and too proud, and here was his father complimenting him. Complimenting him on all the chaos and suffering he has brought. Somehow always finding something positive to reflect upon and he could feel now his spine tremble. A warm hand found his, covering his frozen one, and he could feel his jaw shudder next. Turning his head away, muttering something about there being dust in his eyes, he refused to look at his Father. Yet that hand squeezed warmly and in loving encouragement.

“Son, when are you going to come home?”

Lucifer swallowed hard, feeling a deep pain in the base of his throat at how painful such a mundane process became. This was not turning out as he planned. Not at all. Leaning forward on his knees, staring hard at the shoreline, he managed to form words, “When are you?” It was snide, trying desperately to pour salt on any wounds his father may have. But he could feel that damn smile and he refused to look at his Father. Refused. He would not. He would remain firm. Remain strong. Remain resolute.

“Only when all my wayward sons come home.”


End file.
